


i'm stuck like glue

by juliusschmidt



Series: harry, you little shit [5]
Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Crying, Dubious Consent, Hand Jobs, M/M, Oral Sex, Scenting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-02
Updated: 2014-03-02
Packaged: 2018-01-14 06:06:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,277
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1255675
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/juliusschmidt/pseuds/juliusschmidt
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The X Factor ends and Harry's first heat begins.</p>
            </blockquote>





	i'm stuck like glue

**Author's Note:**

> This is part of a series. It's probably best to start from the beginning. ([x](http://archiveofourown.org/works/946132))
> 
> (Happy to be back! Thanks for all the love and encouragement between updates.)

They’ve lost.

_Lost._

They’re out. In last place.

Fucking _third._

It’s Harry’s fault, of course it fucking is.  He’d fucked up their last rehearsal. And then he’d blown it in the show as well. When he’s up there with the lights hot on his face and the hundreds of hungry eyes hot on his body, he can’t help it, he just lets go. And one of these days he’s going to make a mistake and people will _know_. One of these days, they’ll be able see his sex, the omega-ness glinting off him as clear as the sweat on his forehead.  

The other boys are devastated. He can feel it, filling the room, filling _him_ till he’s suffocating from it. He hates that he’s an omega right now. The fact that he can feel the pain, enough pain for all five of them, welling up inside him, making his eyes water and his stomach roil, it’s not fair.

He’s sat in Louis’ lap and Louis’ hands are all over him, running through his hair, tracing over his shoulders, thumbing away the tears on his cheeks. “Harry,” Louis murmurs. “Harry, it’s fine.”

His voice is so soft, velvety like the (not so secret) kisses they share in the dark of their bunkroom. He presses his lips to Harry’s ear, “Calm down, love.”

The endearment sends a shiver down Harry’s spine, temporarily distracting him from the heartbreak-filled room. A little louder, Louis says, “You’re snotting all over me.”

Which is totally not fair, considering Louis’ the one who (probably accidentally, but maybe actually not) had stuck his finger up Harry’s nose. Harry bats Louis’ hand away, but circles his wrist with his fingers and holds tight. He breathes slowly trying to match Louis’ pulse, the steady, even rhythm of Louis’ heartbeat thrumming against the inside of Harry’s own thumb. Another tear tickles the corner of his eye.

Liam’s glaring at them. He probably blames Harry.  Maybe he even _knows_ what’s been throwing Harry off _._ Liam sighs, loud and long, shoulders heaving, and mutters, “Louis quit pretending. You know you like it. You’d bathe in his scent, if you could.”

Everyone stills. Harry feels Louis’ pulse skyrocket. They’ve known about Harry and Louis’ _thing_ , of course they have, but they haven’t, like, talked about it, not as a group anyway.

They’re alone now, locked away for a few minutes ‘to regroup,’ according the stagehand who’d shuffled them off.  Harry could tell from the way her had eyes lingered pityingly his face that he’d better get his tears out quickly. The cameramen would be in for them any minute wanting an exit interview.

Louis pulls away from Harry. “I don’t what the fuck you’re talking about Liam,” he says.

The comment zips through Harry like a bolt of lightning, leaving him stiff and burnt.  It’s necessary, probably, to keep whatever’s between them quiet. But Liam’s like, well, he _already knows._

Zayn looks up from his hands, which he’s been wringing, and glances at Louis. He says, “Chill man.”

Harry feels himself quite suddenly close drawn to Zayn, who’s now radiating an inexplicable calm. It feels wonderful, warm and peaceful and sweet. Harry wants to wrap himself up in it and wear it around always. He moves to sit closer to Zayn, offering him a small smile.

Zayn smiles back and opens his arms, inviting Harry into a hug. To the room at large, he says, “Harry smells fucking fantastic. Who wouldn’t want to rub this shit all over their body?”

Harry nuzzles Zayn’s neck. Harry could say the same of him, really. Louis whines.

“Careful, he’s jealous,” Zayn says, lips against Harry’s ear.

“Lads,” Niall says, voice harsh. “We lost. No matter how delicious Harry smells- and you do smell delicious, mate- this is it. What do we do now?”

“Murder Simon Cowell,” Louis suggests. “How about we strangle him with mic chords?” He pauses, as if waiting for a response from the other boys, maybe a laugh or two. The room stays silent. Harry thinks of other ways they might off Simon. Poison masked as anti-aging face cream or tanning solution might work well.

 Louis tries again, “We were supposed to win. He said we could fucking win.” Harry turns away from Zayn to look at Louis. The bags under his eyes look deep, despite all the make-up he’s wearing. He meets Harry’s gaze.

“Harry, come back,” Louis says and Harry can’t resist, not when he uses that tone. He untangles himself from Zayn and places himself squarely in Louis’ lap.

There’s a banging on the door of the room and a shout of, “Boys? Are you in there?”

Louis squeezes Harry’s shoulders hard enough that his nails bite into Harry’s skin. It’s time to save face.

~

Louis’ hands are resting firm on Harry’s shoulders when the interviewer asks the question, so Harry knows Louis feels him tense up.

She says, “Liza at home tells us she’s gutted that you lost and wants to know if you think the fact that you’re all alphas will help you succeed in the future. What do you think boys?”

Niall says, “I’m not sure how—“

At the same time as Liam begins, “Absolutely, I think—“

But it’s Zayn who cuts through and carries the conversation forward. “I think what helps the most is being self-assured, like. I think if you’re an alpha or a beta or even an omega, like, being confident and working hard is what helps you succeed.”

As much Harry wishes that were true, he knows it’s complete bullshit. If anyone were to find out his true gender, if _Zayn_ were to find out his true gender, he’d be fucked, out of the band in an instant. Simon’s almost told him as much.

Louis massages Harry’s shoulders, loosening them a bit and pulling Harry back into the present. Harry says, “I think the most helpful thing has been our mentors and all the crew.” He winks at cameraman Joe offstage. Joe always had been able to find him extra food when he’d wanted it. Joe deserves some credit.

“Oh my god, Harry,” Louis says, moving his hands to cover Harry’s face. Harry bites at his fingers and so he moves to bury them in Harry’s hair, instead.

“So,” the interviewer presses, “You don’t think being an alpha has helped you at all?”

“It helps us smell fantastic,” Niall says.

“Especially Harry,” Louis agrees, sniffing dramatically at the spot where his fingers are pressed close to Harry’s scalp, wrapped up in his curls.

“Yeah,” Niall says, burying his face in Harry’s neck. “So good. Like pizza.”

Something bubbles low in the pit of Harry’s stomach, something suspiciously like arousal.

The interviewer sniffs, delicately, and Harry frowns, tempted to scoot away from her. It’s not polite to scent strangers, she should know.

Her pupils dilate and her gaze travels over him, resting on Louis’ hands in his hair. “Wow, Harry,” is all she says before moving on to the next question.

~

Harry’s dragged into a sideroom where Simon’s standing by a table of sandwiches and talking to another one of the producers. He nods at Harry before continuing his conversation. Harry sits in a folding chair by the door and tries to listen in, but it’s about meetings with record labels and management companies and other things Harry and the other boys will probably not need to worry about now that they’ve lost.

When the other man walks out, Simon gestures Harry over. He breathes deeply and shakes his head. He’s smiling. “Niall’s right. You smell like pizza.”

Harry chews his lip. “I like pizza.”

Simon nods. “Me too.”

It’s eerily quiet in the room after the rush of the night and Harry is so tired. He wants to go back to his bunk and curl himself around Louis. He knows that his mom and his sister are waiting for him and that there are parties to attend and people to meet. Still, he’d rather envelop himself in Louis sweet, spicy scent and sleep.

Simon’s watching him, deep in thought. “It’s working, I think, you’re charm.”

Harry snorts. “We lost.”

Simon gives him a small smile. “It’s better this way, trust me.”

Harry does not kick him in the balls, but he thinks about it very hard.

“You have an appointment with a doctor, a gender specialist, tomorrow. People are beginning to notice your scent. You’re probably due for your first heat _very_ soon, maybe even in the next few days. You’ll want to be on suppressants by then, to dull the symptoms, especially if you’re not going to take a lover or a bondmate.”

“A lover or a bondmate?” Harry repeats.

“That’s what I what said.” Simon sounds impatient, his voice not quite under control.

“Is there a difference?” Harry asks. He’s heard of such a thing, of an alpha or a beta ‘helping’ an omega through a heat (how very generous of them), but he’d thought those stories were myths, wishful thinking or posturing on the part of the person making the claim. But if such a relationship were possible, that could change everything. “I thought you were suggesting that Louis and I—“

“Of course there’s a fucking a difference. People don’t bond to everyone they have sex with, Harry. Jesus, has anyone ever given you the talk?” The gentle, seductive pull of Simon’s nutty scent clashes with his harsh tone.

Harry shakes his head. “You know that I’ve only just presented.”

Simon blows out a breath.

Harry tries again because it seems important. “So, like, how does it work with—“

Simon interrupts, “You can talk about it with the doctor tomorrow.” Harry watches Simon’s hands flex at his sides and realizes that Simon’s color’s off as well. He’s flushed.

“Okay,” Harry nods. He rubs at his neck, curious, and, sure enough, Simon’s eyes track the movement before closing.

They stay closed as, pinching the bridge of his nose, he says, “You probably shouldn’t stay with the other boys tonight. See if your mom and sister will let you stay with them. This would be a good time to talk with them about, well, everything, what with the upcoming meetings.”

“Yeah, okay,” Harry says. What Simon’s suggesting makes sense, but he actually really wants to spend the evening with Louis. He’s not sure what the next few months will look like for them. And, also, he’s more than a little a horny, his dick having sat half hard in his pants for most of the evening.  

Simon opens his eyes and shakes his head. “Go on, then. Tomlinson’s waiting for you.”

As soon as Simon says it, Harry realizes it’s true. He can smell Louis’s tang, even now, and something clenches at the base of his spine, sending a shiver and a twitch right to arsehole. He’s already starting to feel wet. _Fuck._

“Thanks, Simon,” he says, trying to keep face, remain polite, even as he lurches for the door, for Louis.

“Be careful, Harry,” Simon’s voice follows behind him, but the words seem unimportant, a distraction from Louis _._

 ~

Louis is standing several feet away from the door of the room, arms folded, looking cross. Harry follows his gaze to the other side of the door where the man who heads up the show’s security is glaring at him, his eyebrows raised as if daring Louis’ resistance.

Louis reaches for Harry immediately, wrapping a hand around his bicep. After shooting one last dark look at the other man, Louis pulls Harry down the hallway and asks, “You okay? He didn’t, like, I mean,” Louis pauses and then starts again, “What did Simon want with you alone, _again_?”

Harry scrambles for an answer, but the little energy he has left after the drama of the evening is dwindling and all he can think about is crawling into their bunk and curling himself around and into Louis. “Uhh..,” he stutters.

“Fuck, you smell good,” Louis interrupts, as he tugs them around a corner. Harry realizes they’re not headed to the entry hall where their parents are waiting, but toward the now deserted dressing area. “I mean, you always smell pretty fucking fantastic, but tonight, like, _everyone_ can smell it. It’s disgustingly attractive.”

Harry doesn’t think Louis sounds disgusted with him at all. Quite the opposite.

Louis opens the door to the backstage loo and, dragging Harry inside, he continues, “I’m sure you had every omega in the house wetting themselves.”

With great irony, Harry’s own arse thrums in anticipation as Louis punctuates his thought by pressing Harry flush against the wall. Nosing Harry’s neck, he says, “Fuck, your scent. You’ve got to be knotting, that’s got to be what this is all about.”

Harry’s not knotting, of course, but this close he can feel Louis’ own bulge, already thick, already ready. Harry’s ready, too, is the thing. He can’t imagine anything that would feel more satisfying than Louis’ cock buried inside him, his thick pulsing knot tying them together.

Dizzy with want, Harry realizes Louis’ fingers are fiddling with the buttons at the top of Harry’s trousers. A small, clear-headed part of Harry’s brain knows that this is _not good_ and so he uses all his strength to whirl them around and pin Louis’ hands over his head.

Eyes wide, Louis lets his head fall back against the tiled wall. Harry’s an inch or two taller and, especially with Louis panting beneath him like this, Harry feels _powerful._ And, while it’s a smidge uncomfortable, he thinks he likes it.

Louis says, a little breathlessly, “I fucking love it when you go alpha on me.”

Harry huffs a laugh and lets his hands slide down to pinch Louis’ nipples. Louis squirms, but his arms fall to Harry’s shoulders and grip hard. Against Harry’s ear, he murmurs, “Tell me what you want.”

In answer, Harry cants his hips, aligning their cocks so that they touch, hot even through the layers fabric between them.

Louis’ hands move to Harry’s arse, pulling him closer still and then, kneading lightly. Louis’ fingers dance along his crack and Harry can’t help it, he says, “I want you inside me.”

Louis keens and one of his thumbs brushes against Harry’s hole, which pulses wetly in response. _Sweet fucking Jesus._

Panicking, Harry falls hard to knees and fumbles with the zip on Louis’ trousers. He takes Louis’ cock in fist and rubs the wet head of it against his lips. They’ve never done this before, never come close to anything _penetrative_ , but Harry’s desperate for Louis to be inside him somehow.

He meets Louis’ eyes and, still pressing close to his cock, in kiss of whisper, he says, “Fuck me.”

Harry opens his mouth and Louis does not hold back, shoving inside rough and eager.  Mostly Louis tastes like he smells, chocolate and citrus, but there’s a hint of salty sweat and bitter come. The feel of Louis’ knot edging up against his lips has Harry’s own dick throbbing. He reaches to hold it with his free hand, as Louis thrusts and thrusts and thrusts.

Harry’s lips feel raw and he thinks he’s fighting a losing battle trying to keep his teeth from grazing Louis’ cock, but Louis doesn’t complain and Harry’s sure he’s as caught up in the _rightness_ of this as Harry is. Louis’ fingers tangle in Harry’s hair, as murmurs, “Love being inside you. Always want inside you.”

Harry’s cock is leaking and his arse is aching. It’s so good, but he knowsit could be so much better.

Harry could let it happen, too. They’re alone and they’re ready. It would be easy to stand, slide off his trousers, line Louis up, and take himinside, let them both find the release they’re so desperate for _._  At this moment it’s difficult to think about why that would be a terrible idea. It’s difficult to think about the long term, his career, his _dreams_.

Louis’ rhythm begins to break down as he closes in on his orgasm and Harry, yearning to follow him over the edge, rocks back against the heel of his shoes. The pressure against his hole is a tease, not nearly enough to be wholly satisfying, but, paired with the hand on his dick, it is enough to having him coming against the zip of his trousers.

Harry chokes a bit, then, out of breath and boneless, but he does not let up on Louis. Louis tugs at Harry’s hair and hisses out, “You need to pull off. I’m knotted. It’ll be too much.”

Harry tightens his fist around Louis’ cock, holding him in place. He wants it to be too much.  

~

Louis grabs Harry’s hand as they walk out into the hallway, weaving their fingers together and squeezing. Harry swallows. It feels so good, so right to be close to Louis like this.

He feels energized by the encounter. He wants to follow Louis back to the bunkroom, so they can cuddle and kiss. He wants to spend hours there, awash in each other’s voices, smiles and scents. Mostly, he wants Louis to knot him; he wants them to bond.

Simon must’ve been right. His heat is coming on quickly.

He pulls his hand out of Louis’ grasp and looks straight ahead as he says, “I’m going to back to the hotel with my mum tonight.”

“What?” Louis asks, stopping midstep. Harry tries to keep moving, but Louis catches his elbow. “Harry, is everything okay? Was that okay? Did I, um,…”  He doesn’t finish the question, but Harry gets it.

Harry says, “Yeah, come on.” He nods down the hall and tugs them forward. “I miss my family. Losing was awful.”

Louis follows him easily, but his voice is small when he says, “This isn’t about what I said when were, um, you know?”

Harry doesn’t falter when he replies, “No, nothing like that.”

Louis presses, “I just thought—“

And it’s painful to Harry how uncertain Louis sounds, so he cuts him off. “I need to talk to my mum about family things.”

Suddenly closer than before, in Harry’s space, their elbows and shoulders brushing, Louis says, “I’ll miss you, after.”

Harry nods, but they’re rounding the corner into the lobby before he can really respond. The moment he sees their families he feels terrible. His mother is biting her freshly painted cuticles, her forward lined with worry.

She rushes forward the moment she catches sight of them. Clutching at his shoulders, she says, “Where were you? The other boys were back here an hour ago. We sent security to look for you.”  

Harry shrugs and says, “Saying goodbye, I guess.” Out of the corner of his eye he can see Louis dole out kisses to each of his sleepy-eyed sisters, as his mom ushers them toward the door with a yawn.

Harry refocuses on his mother, pulling her into a hug. She smells wonderful, neutral, with a just hint of their lavender laundry soap. Into her hair, Harry does not quite sob, “I need to talk to you.”

“Of course, Harry, a lot’s happened in the last couple months.” She tries to pull away, but Harry holds her close. His eyes feel wet and he wants another moment to hide. She runs a hand through his hair.

Absently, she says, “You smell nice.”

He chokes back a whimper. “Mum,” he says, as quietly as he can manage. “I’ve presented.”

She coos, “That’s wonderful.”  

He shakes his head and, softer still, he murmurs, “I’m not an alpha.”

Tensing, she squeezes him to her more tightly and he can feel her manicured nails press into his skin through the fabric of his shirt, a biting comfort.

**Author's Note:**

> I wish these were coming faster, but it's been a rough winter. I will not completely abandon this 'verse before it finds some resolution. That said, no promises on the timing. 
> 
> tumblr: [juliusschmidt](http://juliusschmidt.tumblr.com)


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